"Have you tried turning it off and back on again?"
••
Christian Ivonov, CEO of Ivonov enterprises, had always been the best at fucking things up. Whether it be relationships, or company connections, nothing was too far out of his reach to ruin.
Alex...
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"This dipshit really thinks I won't do it." I grumbled to myself.
"Christian, I'm a good ninety percent sure he hasn't checked his emails. He logged his PTO as sick days, so let the poor guy recover." Brad snapped back. He hadn't even looked up from his laptop to do so.
"Brad this is crunch time, we don't even have a few weeks until this presentation needs to be ready. There are no time for sick days. That, and he's my personal assistant, what the hell is a sick day to him anyways? Those don't exist."
"You're acting psychotic again." My mother chimed in.
I glances up at the woman who was perfectly seated in the chair across from my desk. Regardless of the relaxed style of the furniture, my mother demonstrated nothing less than perfect posture. She sat upright at the end of the seat, with her tablet rested on her perfectly crossed legs, and a glass of wine in hand.
Glancing at her brought a few not-so-fond memories to light.
I remember my mother used to smack the shit out of Brad and I whenever we would slouch in our chairs. She always said that perfect posture gave off a different type of radiative energy. Something that represented power and importance.
As I looked back up at my mother, it was hard not to feel her power.
"What's with this boy, anyways? Brad was telling me you hired your IT guy as your assistant. That's an interesting move, Christian."
"Yes well, he's proved to be quite adaptive. We've made some great growth through the last couple days, and he's assisting me with the Mavericks deal." I explained.
"He's also fixing the computer that Christian smashed to smithereens." Brad added. My eyes snapped up to give him the most intense glare, but he still wasn't bothering to glance away from his computer screen.
"Christian!" My mother shot out in the most disapproving tone.
"It was an accident! The deal with Larington didn't go exactly as planned..." I continued with hesitation. My fingers gripped the edge of my desk tight as I braced myself for what was to come...
My mother's wrath.
"Kristian Ivanov, so help me god, what the fuck have you done now?"
I flinched as her Russian started to seep through. She was metaphorically morphing into her true form- the spawn of Satan himself.
